Gathering of Pearls (7 page)

The next day, Ellen and I took the train to her parents' farmhouse in New Jersey. While Ellen dozed off, I decided to write a letter to Mother.

Dearest Mother,

My roommate, Ellen Lloyd, and I are on our way to her home for Thanksgiving weekend. Thanksgiving is a big holiday here. It's a fall harvest festival, like Chusok in Korea. Everyone goes home to be with family. I'm bringing Ellen's mother some of the lovely hand towels you embroidered. I know she will love them. Handmade goods are especially treasured here.

I am doing well and hope no one is anxious about me. Everything is fine here and I have all that I need. So please don't ever worry about sending me anything.

Did I tell you how much everyone loves to see me dressed in the hanboks you made? I've already worn them several times. The nuns keep asking me to wear them to Sunday Mass. Also, the college administration office often calls me and asks me to wear a hanbok to greet parents and special guests. Many of my classmates and even the nuns come up to me to touch my dress and admire your embroidery. I tell everyone that you made it. My roommate likes the outfits so much that I am thinking of giving one to her. I hope it is all right with you.

The first few times I wore a hanbok on campus, I felt awkward and strange because I stood out so much. But now I am used to it. I know I will always be different and that people will always be curious about me. It is quite a responsibility being the only Korean in my class, for I want to make a good impression so that Americans will think well of Koreans. I want to make everyone at home proud of me.

I hope you are not working too hard, and that you are not still carrying so many things to the convent. I can't help worrying about you.

Your loving daughter, Sookan

When we arrived at the station, Ellen's parents were already waiting for us. I thought Ellen was the luckiest person on earth to have both her parents there waiting to greet her. They rushed over as we stepped off the train, and they each gave me a big hug as Ellen introduced me. I was suddenly lonely for my mother and brothers. I would not see them for four years; it was too far and too expensive for me to visit home.

The Lloyds' large wood-frame farmhouse sat in the middle of an enormous field that seemed endless. As Ellen's mother watched me survey the land, she said, "We have sixteen acres here. The house and all the land used to belong to my grandfather. He built the house and barn himself. You and Ellen will have to go for a long walk this weekend."

Kyle arrived a few hours later, and Ellen's parents seemed delighted to meet their daughter's boyfriend. Kyle was warm and friendly. He enveloped my hand in his big palm and shook it for a while, then said, "Good to meet you, Sookan. Ellen tells me you are a wonderful roommate and a great listener!"

"Maybe because I'm never in our room, and when I am, I fall asleep while she is talking to me," 1 said.

"Sookan, she puts me to sleep, too," said Ellen's father with a smile.

Ellen laughed and pretended to pout at her father. Her father winked at me and chuckled joyfully. It was so loving and lighthearted. I don't ever remember giving my father such a look. In Korea, children are not even supposed to look grownups in the eye. We love our parents, but the way we express our love and respect is much more restrained and prescribed.

Mrs. Lloyd beamed at Kyle. I could almost hear her thinking,
What a fine young man for Ellen to date while she is in college.
And after Mr. Lloyd fixed Kyle a drink, the two men talked and laughed like old friends. How refreshing it was for me to see them so relaxed at their first meeting. In Korea, it would be inconceivable to bring a boyfriend home for a holiday dinner; only husbands, and maybe fiancés, were allowed.

As Ellen's mother got up to begin serving dinner, Ellen said, "Oh, Mom, wait. Sookan and I have a surprise for all of you. We need to go upstairs for a while. Can you hold dinner just a bit longer?"

Before her mother could answer, Ellen dashed up the creaky stairs, pulling me by the hand. In her room, she quickly put on the
hanbok
I had brought. She had seen me do this many times, and knew exactly how to wear it. I smiled as I watched her struggle with the bow, though, and went to fix it for her so that it would hang properly. We then pulled her hair up in a sweep. With her creamy white skin, blue eyes, and golden hair, she looked splendid in the deep blue
hanbok.
The long skirt hung beautifully on her, and the silver cranes embroidered on the hem seemed to take flight as she twirled around in front of the mirror.

"Ellen, you look stunning! It fits you perfectly," I said. "It's yours. You must keep it."

"I couldn't possibly! Your mother made it for you. And it's too expensive to give away. It's all silk," she said.

"I have three others. If my mother saw you, she would insist you keep it. Besides, you look so beautiful in it that I wouldn't think of wearing it anymore."

"Thank you so much!" she said, giving me a big squeeze and a kiss. "I do look gorgeous, don't I?"

"Yes, you certainly do, Ellen." I beamed at her. It was the first time I had heard any girl declare her own beauty, and I liked it. In Korea, it is considered rude and shallow to compliment oneself. The proper answer would be, "No, I am not beautiful; it is the dress that is beautiful."

To tease Ellen, I repeated the things my mother used to say when I was little and got all dressed up in my
hanbok.
In a stern voice, I said, "Lower your head, young lady, and fold your hands gracefully in front of you. Now take small, delicate steps, and hold your
chima
just so." Ellen looked at me wide-eyed, then played along by following my direction. She bowed deeply to me, and we both burst out laughing.

"Let's go show the others," Ellen said. "Wait, let me compose myself as you said ... for the full effect, you know." She gingerly made her way down the stairs in her long gown. As I skipped down after her in my comfortable skirt and blouse, I thought about what our college physical education teacher always instructed us to do: "Chest out, shoulders back, chin up." What a difference from the Korean way, which I had just explained to Ellen.

As we appeared, a hush fell over the room. "Look at our little princess," Mrs. Lloyd finally exclaimed with surprise. Kyle could not take his eyes off Ellen, and sensing his gaze, she acted even more demure, playing the enchanted princess from a faraway land.

Suddenly, her father broke into a guffaw. "Ellen, I never knew you could be silent for so long!"

"I can't act like myself while dressed this way, can I?" We all laughed, but I wondered if she had just hit on the reason I was reluctant to wear my
hanbok
on campus.

After dessert, Mrs. Lloyd said, "Oh, Sookan, I have something for you." She hurried to her room and brought out a large maroon book. "Here, open it. Making scrapbooks is sort of a hobby of mine. I kept seeing you in the school newsletter, so I cut the articles out and started a scrapbook for you. I thought you might like to have all these to send home to your family."

As I flipped through the pages, I saw a picture of me in my
hanbok
speaking to the Girl Scouts, another picture of me talking to the local Ladies Garden Club, and a big clipping of me greeting visitors to the school. I had seen the photos in the school newsletters, but I hadn't thought to save them. Now, though, I was glad to be able to look back on what I had done over the past three months. I thanked Mrs. Lloyd for the thoughtful gift. She hadn't even met me until today, and she had been clipping articles since the first day I moved in with Ellen!

As I continued to look through the scrapbook, Mrs. Lloyd said, "Your family must be so proud of you. You have become quite an excellent ambassador for your country, and have made lots of friends, I hear."

It felt so good to hear her say all these nice things. In Korea, elders did not bestow such generous compliments. Young people were
expected
to do well, and it was their job not to disappoint their elders. After spending so much time worrying about disappointing my sister, I appreciated hearing that I had done something right lately.

"Sookan, are you feeling all right?" Mrs. Lloyd asked. "You're looking terribly pale all of a sudden."

"Oh, yes, I'm fine. I think it's just the excitement of my first Thanksgiving."

"No, she's not fine," Ellen piped in. "She's been running herself ragged. I told you she waitresses at the dining hall every weekday evening, then she sneaks out of the room and spends half the night studying. And she spends her weekends baby-sitting or working at the administration office."

Mrs. Lloyd placed her hand on my shoulder and said firmly, "Now, Sookan, I order you to go upstairs and sleep. You need to get some rest this weekend."

I was a bit embarrassed, but I thanked her and hurried to bed, trying to fight back tears. Her concerned, motherly voice was so comforting. I realized how very much I missed my own mother, and how lonesome I had been despite all the new friends I had made. Suddenly I felt the exhaustion of all the sleepless nights and attempts to fit in at school. I pulled the covers over my head, and sobbed until I fell asleep.

I heard the alarm clock go off, reached under the bed for the flashlight I kept hidden, and shined the beam on my wristwatch. It was five minutes to four o'clock and I had to get up to study. I hadn't touched any of the books that I had taken to the Lloyds over vacation. Mrs. Lloyd had made sure I rested the whole weekend, and though all the sleep did make me feel a little bit better, I had been back at school for several weeks and now had more work than ever.

Ellen was a heavy sleeper and fortunately never heard my alarm clock, but since she was sensitive to light, I couldn't work at my desk. I grabbed my pillow and blanket, and tiptoed upstairs to my usual spot. At the end of the hall was the shower room, the only room in the building where the lights were kept on all night. There, at the end of the long row of showers, were five sparkling clean bathtubs. I headed to the tub in the corner and spread out my blanket, placed my pillow at the back, and laid my books on the floor. I had discovered this spot the second week of school, and was a regular here. We weren't supposed to leave our rooms after the "lights out" bell, but I felt confident that no one would find me.

I picked up my book for Greek and Roman culture, and began madly flipping through my dictionary. I still had a hundred pages to go, and I had to finish before six, when people would arrive for their morning showers. I just had to make sure not to fall asleep. No one must ever find me here.

I kept pushing ahead with my reading, but I didn't feel right. My head was pounding, and my stomach was all tied up in knots. I pulled my knees into my chest, and kept reading. In order to pull my grade up, I needed a B on today's test. First semester report cards would be sent home soon, and I worried that my grades would shock my family. I had never gotten anything lower than an A—in Korea, but here, I would be lucky if I passed my courses. If only I didn't have to look up so many words; it took so long. The minutes ticked by too quickly and I still had ninety pages to read.

Suddenly, my head started spinning, and I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. I tried to rub the pain away, but it just kept getting worse. Everything seemed blurry. Terrified, I began to gather my books, pillow, and blanket. I had to get back to my room. As I stepped out of the tub, I felt myself fall, and watched the pillow, blanket, and all my books go flying across the floor.

I smelled antiseptic. Slowly, I lifted my heavy eyelids. The curtains were drawn, but the bright December sun cast a soft light on the walls of this quiet room. I looked over and saw an empty bed next to me. I had been in this room before. I had visited Ellen here when she had had the flu. It was so quiet, though. I wondered how long I had been here in the infirmary. I wondered if everyone had already left for Christmas vacation. I tried to sit up, but I felt too dizzy. I gave up and put my head back on the pillow.

"Ah, you're finally awake," Sister Reed said as she entered. "Your fever broke and you had a good rest. You will be fine now." She was carrying a large tray with a bowl of soup, some crackers, a glass of juice, and a vase filled with roses, carnations, and mums.

The scent of cut flowers and chicken soup comforted me. Overwhelmed by the attention, I awkwardly struggled to sit up.

"No, no, no, just lie still," Sister Reed urged. "You are better now, but not well enough to be up and about. Tomorrow, you will be fine. You fainted two days ago and you've been here ever since. Doctor McCormack has been in to check on you several times, and he says you are suffering from exhaustion. He gave you a strong sedative so that you would rest."

"I'm sorry I worried you, Sister Reed," I said as I tried to clear my scratchy throat. What a commotion I must have made so early in the morning.

"Don't fret about that, dear. We were just glad that we found you right away. Ginny Lake was heading in for an early shower, and she heard a big thud. She found you on the floor and called us immediately. I'm so relieved you weren't hurt." She patted my arm. "Doctor McCormack will be back this afternoon to look in on you, but you look much better today. Do you feel up to eating? Here, first try sipping some orange juice through this straw."

As Sister Reed watched me eat, she told me that Christmas vacation had started the day before. She had turned Ellen and Marci away so many times, she said, that they finally listened to her and went home but have been calling often. The flowers had come from the Bennetts, she added.

I started to sob.

"My dear," Sister Reed said as she bent over and kissed me on the forehead, "there is nothing to be concerned about. You are all right and the only thing you have to do now is get plenty of sleep. That will please me immensely. Don't you worry about a thing." She then brushed my hair off my face, pulled the blankets up around me, and quietly left. But I knew that as soon as I felt better, I would be in for a very long talk with her. As both a foreign and scholarship student, I was required to check in with her once a month. Each time, I had told her how much I was enjoying everything, and that I was managing just fine. I had always assured her that things were not too overwhelming or difficult. But our next visit would be different. I knew she would give me a lecture and ask me lots of questions. She would be watching me carefully from now on.